


MarcoJean Week 2015

by Bittodeath



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-31 00:11:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6447643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bittodeath/pseuds/Bittodeath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>MarcoJean Week 2015, prompts were:<br/>1 - Insecurity.<br/>2 - Inspiration.<br/>3 - Reincarnation.<br/>4 - Longing. (Victorian Era AU)<br/>5 - Red. (Indian/cowboy AU)<br/>6 - Music. (First chapter of <em>Human just like you</em>)<br/>7 - Struggle. (Crossover Captive Prince)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bright, High and Strong

Jean had always been insecure when it came to Marco. _Do you love me? Are you really in love with me? Did you cheat on me? Will you love me even when I’m old and gray?_ His questions came back regularly, often when they were cuddling, when it was more than obvious that Marco really loved him. But Marco was never upset. He never rose his voice at Jean – well, at least when it came down to this matter – and always reassured him. _Yes, I love you. I love you more than anyone. I would die for you. I’d never even consider cheating on you, because you’re my past, my present and my future, you’re my everything, and I’ll love you forever, even when I’m nothing more than a memory in your mind._ It did sound cheesy and Marco knew it perfectly, but Jean always seemed so reassured he knew it was worth it.

Marco did his very best to prove him that he loved him. And not only that he loved him, but that he loved him with all his heart. And Jean was happy, they spent hours talking, cuddling, and had the most incredible sex ever. But then again, insecurity would come back and Jean would lose his smile, and the questions would come again, and Marco would say it once more: I love you.

He remembered perfectly how he had said it again the night before, whispering in his ear, his arms around him, his breath tickling his neck. He had said it once more and Jean had drifted in a sweet sleep. Then morning had come and, swiftly, discreetly, because they were not alone, he had said it again. He remembered each and every time he had said it.

He remembered how he had proved it. How he had jumped from the Wall, where he was safe and secure, just to help Jean.

He remembered that he had murmured it once again, as the Titan’s mouth approached him. He had murmured it again and again, a litany, a prayer, to make sure that Jean would never be insecure anymore. It was all that mattered: for Jean to be safe and to be sure of his love.

The Titan’s jaw had closed on him, and he had lost consciousness.

\--

 

“Jean.”

The silence was almost hurting – or rather, the lack of silence. He could hear the crackle of the fire, the faint sound of the wind between buildings, and Jean’s sobbing.

“Jean.”

He could hear all of this, but he could not hear Jean’s voice. He didn’t answer him.

“Jean”, he said once more, enveloping him in his arms, kissing his temple, “I love you. Now and forever.”  
“Now and forever”, Jean whispered in echo.  
“So you hear me…” Marco said with a smile, stroking gently Jean’s wet cheek.

But Jean didn’t look at him. He didn’t answer. He only rose up.

“Did you choose? As for me… I’ll join the Survey Corps.”  
“Jean, don’t!” Marco cried out as he jumped to him.

His body crossed him without any resistance. He looked at his body without substance, at those useless hands of his, collapsed on his knees, shaking.

“We are insecure”, he muttered without even realizing it.

\--

 

“Jean.”

Marco held out a hand with a smile, a bright smile.

“Jean. I love you.”

Jean’s eyes started to water and he suddenly pulled him into a hug. His body was burning high and bright, his comrades and friends – the ones that had survived – were crying next to them.

“I felt so insecure, Jean. I… I need you…” Marco sobbed in his arms.  
“I love you, Marco. I’ve always loved you, and I will never fail this promise. And I’ll tell it to you as much as you need, as much as you want, because you’re all that matters to me.”

Because insecurity never meant lack of love, but the assurance that love was kept bright, high and strong.


	2. All Lies Come to An End

Jean closed his eyes and felt the breeze on his face, the warmness of the sun, smelt the pure perfume of the fields and the iodized scent of the ocean. All these feelings melted inside of him and he felt relaxed, safe and secure. He opened his eyes, seized his brush and looked at the draft in front of him. The landscape was the same, and still more beautiful each day. He didn’t even knew it was possible.

“I was told you were there”, said a gentle voice behind him.

He didn’t move an inch and continued melting the colours to obtain the perfect shade of blue. It was fascinating how the colors took life under his hands, how they rearrange to create something magnificent, how the world’s beauty found its place on his paintings.

“Jean? Please turn around. I am not a hallucination, I promise.”

But Jean didn’t move. A hand suddenly patted his shoulder and he jumped out of surprize, throwing a jet of paint around. He turned around. His fingers opened up, the brush and the palette fell in the green grass and he parted his lips to say something, but only a faint sound came out, inaudible.

“What did you say?”

Jean was astonished. He held out a hand to the freckled face in front of him, one he had known and cherished for so long that it was carved in his memory. Marco was standing in front of him. Marco, who he thought was dead so long ago.

“Jean… I’m sorry for all you had to endure, really, I’m sorry, but I can explain now, please listen to me!”

Jean took a step back, pain, sorrow and hurt written all over his face. Marco frowned.

“Jean? Love, what’s wrong?”

The habits came back so easily. “Love.” Jean held up a hand to his face, and Marco saw for the first time the scar that extended on his temple and, it seemed, under his hair, now longer. He was so different from back then that he hadn’t see it at first. He held out a hand to the long gone injury and stroke the skin.

“What happened?”

Jean muttered something, so low that Marco didn’t understand a single thing. He frowned and shook his head.

“I can’t understand, speak louder.”

Jean seemed so helpless, it arose in him an urge to protect him. Then, Jean slowly breathed in and out.

“I CAN’T HEAR YOU I’M DEAF”, he yelled on top of his lungs. “But I’m overjoyed to see you, I thought you… I thought you were dead…”, he added a tiny bit lower.

He then took a step toward him and pulled him in his arms, tears rolling down his face, nose buried in Marco’s shoulder.

“How long has it been?” he asked in a really low voice near his ear. “Ten years? Eleven?”  
“It’s been eleven, love”, answered Marco, forgetting what Jean had just yelled.

Jean stared at him and…

…he opened his eyes, groaning at the light that attacked his eyes. He sat up in bed, stroke his sore neck, and looked at his side. Marco was slowly waking up next to him. He smiled and sat as well, before noticing the look on Jean’s face.

“ _What’s wrong, love?_ ” he signed.  
“ _I had a really strange dream. We were in a world that had known a terrible threat, giant eating people, and we were in the army to fight against those monsters_.”  
“ _You and me, in the army? That sure was a strange dream_ ”, answered Marco with a laugh.  
“And you died, dear. You were half eaten by one of those… Titans. And I had to fight, and then we won the war. But I had lost my hearing during a fight and I was living near the sea. And I painted, I spent my time painting, I painted landscapes when I were out, but whenever I were inside, it was you that I painted, and I had tons of paintings of you, and you came back eleven years later, and you were alive…”

Marco grabbed the shuddering hands of Jean and soothed him with a smile, before signing:

“ _Don’t worry, love, I’m here and it was just a dream. I’m not your Muse, Jean, you made it clear. There are no paintings of me_.”  
“ _I lied_.”

Jean stepped out of bed and opened the door of his studio. He took Marco’s hand and guided him to the room he had never been allowed to see: inside were dozen… no, thousands of paintings, some were not finished, but all of them had a single object: Marco.

“ _You’ve always been my one and only inspiration_.”


	3. We Know What True Horror Feels Like

Jean stared at Reiner’s blade, thrusted right through his stomach. He had been prepared to die killed by a Titan. Not by one who had been his comrade.

“This is not what I want”, said Reiner as he turned his back to him. “I’m sorry.”

Jean slowly collapsed on his knees, watching his bloodied hands. He looked around him, to his friends dying by his side. His vision was becoming blurry and he could not hear well. The world faded into black and into silence, and one last thought crossed his mind: _at least, I can now be with you, Marco_.

\--

 

“Jean, what do you want for breakfast?”

He slowly focused on the present, then heard the voice again.

“Jean?”  
“A coffee, please, Marco”, he replied as he got up from his chair to cuddle his freckled lover.  
“Jean, not now, I’m preparing breakfast…”  
“Please…” whined Jean as he kissed the back of his neck.

Marco sighed.

“Alright”, he said as he put back the kitchen tools he was holding to hug back Jean. “You had another flashback, mmh?”

Jean shivered. They tried not to talk about it, about these common memories they had, from a world where they had died too young to truly live. They had been given another start, in another world, or rather, at another time. They had grew up apart, Marco in Germany and Jean in France, but fate was as it was, they were made to be together, and both of their families had moved to England. They went to the same high-schools, at that was when the flashback begun.

At first they were frightened, surrounded by people they mind recollected but their reason wouldn’t acknowledge. They were _memories_ , it was something they felt. But how could this have been? The closer they were, the more they remembered. And it made them uncomfortable. But finally, they had shared a first kiss – they were not even together, it was a drunken bet – and _it happened_. All the memories came back at once and left them panting, crying, in the middle of their friends.

The discover they had made at their death was atrocious: Titans shifters had sold their souls to acquire this tremendous power. But as in each exchange, there were _losses_. And bit by bit, these losses made two new lives, but those lives were without souls. And they had come just at the right time, two souls desiring nothing more than to have more time. None of them actually believed in reincarnation. They were forced to look back on their opinions when they remembered all of this.

Life had went on, and they had lived fully this happiness they had been denied earlier.

“Marco, you… I…”  
“Hush, Jean. I know. I know. I’ll never let you go again.”  
“I am happy with you…”  
“Probably as much as I am.”  
“But I can’t help and wonder, sometimes, what happened to our comrades? Did they win? I died during the first open battle between Humanity and Titans, and I only wish I knew…”  
“But we can’t, love. I’d like to know as well, but here we are, living our everyday life side by side, and this is more than I ever prayed for. I only wish we…”

An enormous thunder echoed and they both ran to the window, more than afraid of thunderstorms. Especially when it came out of a blue sky. They both leaned to see the sky: it had this beautiful, atrocious summer blue. Then something casted a shadow on them, and they didn’t make a single move: just outside, in the middle of London, stood the Ape. Countless thunderstorms echoed again, melted with shrieks, and they instinctively grabbed each other’s hand.

“Not again”, mumbled Marco.  
“I wish it were all a dream…”


	4. I Wish You Were Here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part of my Victorian Era AU were Jean is a young lord and Eren's adopted brother, and Marco is a domestic in their manor.

Jean sighed heavily as he looked out the window. London was supposed to be fun, and yet he was concealed here, in the familial mansion, while everyone was out. But the worst was…

“It is boring…”

He turned at the voice and saw Eren, as gloomy as he was, staring at the pedestrians in the street under them.

“It is your fault if we’re here, anyway.”  
“How is this my fault? We’re celebrating your birthday as well!” replied Eren, trying to sound offended – but all it showed was that he was gloomy enough not to care for it.  
“I don’t understand why Father and Mother make such a fuss about it. Our seventeenth birthday, and then what?” said Jean in a defeated tone. “Plus we’re concealed here and we can’t even go to court balls yet – I mean, Christa’s Masquerade was really pleasant, but I bet Court people would be shocked at the idea.”  
“Sure”, barely replied Eren.

They fell back into silence.

“I wish Marco was here”, murmured Jean. “I miss him. A fortnight, that’s far too long!”  
“You don’t say. I was here before you and I miss Levi…” replied Eren.

A knock at the door startled them.

“Enter”, they said in unison as they straight up and displayed cheerful smiles.

The door creaked open and Marco appeared, flushed red and holding an enormous suitcase. Jean’s eyes starting glowing and he made a step toward him, but Eren held him back by his arm and slowly shook his head. Just behind Marco, Grisha and Marjorie had appeared, all smiles.

“We sent for this boy, your clothes were not ready yet when you departed, so he came to bring them.”  
“Our clothes?” Eren asked, suspicious. “We came with a full luggage!”  
“What, you haven’t guessed yet?” said Marjorie, with her thick French accent.  
“No, Mother,” replied Jean.  
“You’ll both be presented to Queen Victoria by your seventeenth birthday. The ball is set for April, the 8th.”

The two boys were dumbfounded. It would mean they were officially gentlemen, that they could be invited to official balls and more than anything, that they could get married. Or rather, that they _should_ get married. It would kill every suspicion straight away and they would be able to live their love life a bit more easily. But that was all just a theory.

“That’s… very good news”, stated Eren with a smile, holding his trembling hands behind his back.  
“Isn’t it? Well, we need to go out once more. Don’t stay here, sons, and entertain yourselves.”

Their parents off once again, they exchanged a look. This hadn’t been part of their plans. Then Jean’s eyes fell on Marco, and he held out a hand to him. Eren rolled up his eyes and sighed.

“I’ve got the message, I let you both here. Make sure to lock the doors, I’ll give orders that you shall not be disturb.”

Jean nodded in thanks as Marco’s hand grabbed his.

“I missed you”, he said to the domestic as he held him in his arms.  
“You did?” asked Marco shyly. “Oh, wait a second. Sir!” he said as he ran out after Eren.  
“What is it, Marco?” said the young Earl, even more gloomy.  
“Levi asked me to give you this, he said it was very important”, Marco said as he gave him a letter.

Eren received it with big bright eyes and almost ran off to his room. Marco came back to Jean, locked the doors and stared at him.

“I was longing for you”, he said softly but clearly.

Jean smiled, grabbed him and kissed his lips, barely brushing them with his, hands in the black locks of hair. Marco’s embrace felt like home, somewhere he was welcomed and loved, somewhere he belonged to, a place he had memories. _Home is not where you are, but the people you’re with_. The yearning feeling was slowly vanishing as he cuddled Marco, kissing him lovingly.  
The future was uncertain, but one thing was sure: their love would never fade away, and the longing would come back as soon as they would part.


	5. Red

Jean tried to grab his gun, which had fell out of his hand, but the Savage kicked it away, bending his bow to him. That was the moment Jean understood he had fucked up. Wanting to get away from his over-protecting mother, he had had the really bad idea to become a lone cow-boy – after all, he was still young and believed in his dreams, though he was actually fleeing game debts. He held up his hands to show his good will and sat up in the dirt – red dust which stuck to his clothes.

The Indian watched him carefully, and Jean realized he was not really older than him, though he was taller and, well, more muscular. And he was not an Indian by birth: though he was tanned, his skin did not have the same colour as the other savages’, he had freckles and… well, he did had the Caucasian type. Jean started to wonder how the hell he did become a Savage.

“Who are you, Pale Face?” he asked angrily, with a strange accent – but at least, he spoke English.  
“My name is Jean. Jean Kirstein. I travel through the New World, and I don’t want to harm you. What is your name?”  
“Chayton. But Pale Faces often find it difficult to pronounce, so you can call me Marco.”  
“Alright, Marco. Can you, maybe, stop pointing your arrow at me?”  
“Good”, said Marco after a pause, “but I kill you if you try to flee.”  
“From which tribe are you?” Jean asked, though he didn’t know much about Indians, it was still more information about the youngster in front of him.  
“I’m a Sioux”, Marco said proudly.

Jean’s eyes followed the lines of his body – well, from down there, he was damn gorgeous. Muscular body, thick thighs, a light six-pack that allowed to think he was truly muscular and not just showing off as the lads back there in England; long, thick black hair adorned with feathers; brown, hot eyes staring at him and beautiful features. His heart pounded loudly and he averted his eyes.

The young Indian frowned, then started to panic and grabbed his hand.

“Get up! Get up now!”  
“What is it?” asked Jean, worried.  
“Pale-Faced men, probably soldiers, they’re coming this way, and they are numerous! We need to get away and hide.”  
“Alright, I follow you”, said Jean as he got up.

He ran after Marco, a dust-cloud approaching rapidly. Suddenly, Marco pulled him down in a crack, hidden behind a bush, and he scrapped his elbows on the hard rocks. His heart thumped as he realized how close Marco’s almost fully naked body was. However, a voice sent a shiver down his spine.

“I’m sure he went this way… Jean Kirstein, where the hell are you hiding?”

Marco looked at him and opened his mouth to ask if he was speaking about him, but Jean quickly shut him up, a hand over his own lips. The men searched around for a moment and, as they couldn’t find a thing, they turned back from where they came. Jean released Marco’s mouth and slowly started to climb up, to make sure they were gone. Once at the top, he held out a hand to Marco and lifted him up. He lost his balance and fell back, bringing Marco on top of him.

They stared silently at each other, and Jean slowly lifted his head toward Marco, who leaned and put his lips on his. A welcomed warmth filled Jean’s chest as he parted his lips and let Marco’s tongue invade his mouth. They exchanged kiss after kiss, unaware of the world around them, only feeling that it was _right_ , that they were exactly where they were supposed to be. Jean’s hands ran on Marco’s torso, pulling him closer, as Marco grabbed his hair.

Marco sat up on his heels and peered at Jean, panting under him.

“Come with me. From now on, I will teach you how to be a Sioux.”

And Jean seized firmly the hand Marco held out to him: the best of his adventure was laying ahead of him. As they made their way back, the sun set. The sky was filled with a deep, deep red. The same red as the blood in their veins.


	6. Together With You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Human Just Like You_ first chapter  
>  Background: Omegaverse with Alphas, Betas and Omegas, in which Betas develop a secondary type when they mate (basically, a Beta who mates with an Alpha develops Omega’s characteristics, and a Beta who mates with an Omega develops Alpha’s characteristics). Jean is a Beta and a militant musician for Omega’s rights, and he mated with Marco, an Alpha doctor.

Marco entered the apartment: it was empty. He sighed, Jean wasn’t home yet and though he knew it, he couldn’t help but worry. Worry about the threatening letters he received, the stalkers following him everywhere, his determination to do what he thought was right. He checked the clock in the living-room: Jean’s concert hadn’t ended yet, and he would be home late. Jean’s popularity was constantly increasing and it bothered him a bit, though it was actually a good thing. It meant more money, and more than that, it meant his message for Omegas’ rights was spread even further.

He took off his clothes and took a shower to wash the stress of the evening. He liked his job as a doctor, he liked to heal and help people, but he also had first-hand information to the atrocious reality of Omegas’ life. He sighed and tried to get those ideas out of his head. He heard the door creak open and quickly got out of the bathroom, a towel draped around his hips.

\- Jean! He couldn’t help but cry out at the sight of his lover.

Jean was covered in blood, bruised and cut everywhere, his clothes ripped off, as he stumbled into the entrance. He pushed back the door with his foot and looked at Marco, who ran to his side.

\- What happened? He asked as he guided him to the bathroom.  
\- I, ah, I was cornered by Conservatives. They beat me up, obviously they don’t really like my message.

Marco gritted his teeth, held him up and sat him down on the washing machine. Quickly, he grabbed a pair of scissors and cut what remained of Jean’s clothes. He cautiously washed up the blood on his skin and sighed in relief: it looked worse than it really was. Sure, it hurt like hell, but no bone was broken, it were only bruises and abundantly bleeding cut. Only one cut on Jean’s shoulder would need stitches. He numbed Jean’s skin as he grabbed his material to stitch him up.

Jean watched Marco fondly as he carefully took care of his wounds. He waited for Marco to finish his work – he knew by experience that Marco didn’t like to see it messed up – and ruffled his hair. Marco looked at him.

\- What would I do without you? He said gently, staring at his hot brown eyes.  
\- Get an abonnement to the hospital, grumbled Marco as he checked on his previous wounds, almost healed by now.  
\- Well, you’re not wrong, laughed Jean as he put his arms around Marco’s neck, pulling him into his embrace, legs parted to make room for his body.

They stayed like this for a moment, and Jean started humming a song. No, not a song. _The_ song. Marco couldn’t help but smile as he recognized the accords of _Together with you_ , the song Jean had made for him when they had started to date. He pulled away from him, stared at Jean’s golden eyes and kissed his lips. Jean parted them and deepened their kiss, but they quickly pulled away.

\- You taste of blood, scowled Marco.  
\- It hurts… I’m sorry, I think I bit my tongue, answered Jean.  
\- My poor love, in what state do you come back to me, said Marco as he hugged him lightly, attentive not to touch his bruises.

Jean sighed, comfortable in Marco’s embrace, wanting more, but not in state to do anything. He resumed humming as he took a towel and dried Marco’s body. He massaged his tensed up shoulders, softly kissing the back of his neck, ankles crossed on his lover’s crotch.

\- You have to be more careful, Jean.  
\- I know. I’ll do my best.  
\- When is the full moon? Asked Marco suddenly, hit by a thought.  
\- Next week.  
\- You didn’t scheduled any concert, uh? He said worryingly.  
\- No, I didn’t, answered Jean softly. You know that I’m more than careful when I know I’ll be in heat. And you… You’ll be here to take care of me, uh? He added as he kissed Marco’s raven-black hair.  
\- Of course, Marco said with a smile. Now I want you to put your pyjamas on and to get in bed, or else you’ll never heal.

Jean laughed softly and jumped from the washing-machine, wincing. His body actually hurt like hell, but he’d be damned if he admitted it to Marco. He put on a shirt to cover his beaten up body and slid in the bed, still humming his song. He closed his eyes, but didn’t fell asleep right away. He waited stubbornly, but his patience was soon rewarded: as he thought him asleep, Marco started to sing mid-voice Together with you. Jean smiled softly and let the rich, low voice lull him to sleep. _Together with you, when you scowl and when you growl, together with you, when you cry and when you lie, together, just me and you._


	7. Struggle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Captive Prince Crossover, and NSFW content with dubious consent (use of drugs/aphrodisiac).

Marco grumbled: an _Akelonian_ slave! What an idea, seriously, why did his father bought him an Akelonian slave? He would have bet that the slave would be very rustic… no, _barbarian_. But well, a minion for his sixteenth birthday was a prestigious present. He just had to hope the slave would be beautiful if not well-trained. He took a few steps more toward the aisle where the slaves were being kept, before being stopped by his father.

“Ah, Marco, good thing I caught you. I told you I bought you an Akelonian slave, but well, I thought it would be better for you to try and _tame_ your own minion, so I sold the Akelonian.”

Marco stood there, dumfounded. What did it mean? His father gestured to him to follow and he did so.

“I thought that this one would suit you”, he said as he opened a door. “He is a virgin, of course, and he was never trained, though he knows his place.”

The room was filled with colourful cushions and, in the middle of them stood a young slave, kneeling down and not daring to look up to him. He was as servile as the others. Marco looked up at his father, who smiled and closed the door behind him. Well, the message was clear enough: have your way with your new minion and please, _pretty please _, stop humiliating yourself and the family by fooling around with _females_. Marco sighed and took a few steps toward the slave, who had his back to him.__

__“If you think it will be that easy, you’re clearly mistaken”, said the slave with a scornful tone. “I am not a plaything, you know.”_ _

__Marco shrugged his shoulders._ _

__“Well, I probably have absolutely no interest in you whatsoever.”  
“Oh?” said the slave, surprised._ _

__He stood up and faced him, and Marco gulped. The slave had a toned, muscular body, clear brown hair, quite short but long enough for him to grip and pull his head, but the most spectacular thing about him was probably his golden eyes. Marco had never seen eyes like these ones. The slave was wearing golden make-up and golden jewels, a veil tied on his hips but hiding nothing of his parts._ _

___“Okay, maybe I have, actually.”  
“I thought so”, laughed the slave, who looked like he was around his age. “My name is Jean, by the way.”  
“I am Marco, and your master. You’d better be a bit more respectful”, he scowled._

__Jean shrugged and sat back, and Marco sat down as well. His mind was running as fast as he could, and he spotted two glasses that had been prepared for them – it was obvious Jean had prepared them under the careful gaze of Marco’s father. Marco took one glass and discreetly let the Akelonian drug his father had gave him slip in, before holding it out to Jean, who took it without even looking at it. The young noble then took his own glass and took a sip as Jean gulped down all of the wine. _Barbarian_ , Marco thought with a chuckle. It would not take long for his minion to feel the drug’s effect._ _

__“So, _Marco_ , I understood I am kind of your birthday present? Bad luck, I’m not the type to cuddle you and lull you to sleep.”_ _

__Marco smirked as Jean bragged about his capacities and mentality: in not time, he would be begging for him. And indeed, it did not take long for him to be shaky and blushing, wondering what was happening to him. Marco’s grin became wider, and he chuckled as Jean tried to hide his awkward boner._ _

___“You are way too rash, my dear”, Marco said as he came closer.  
“Wh-What?”  
“Shh”._

__Marco hushed him with a kiss on his lips as he pushed him in the cushions. Jean was shivering under him._ _

__“I- I feel so strange… What’s happening to me?”  
“Desire, dear… That’s desire… You lusty little thing”, he murmured in his ear._ _

__Jean moaned as the veil on his hips slid down, and Marco started to undress as well. However, Jean’s flushed face and his moans as his master’s hands stroke his torso were way too much for him. He might have experience – he was still sixteen. He abandoned the idea of unlacing his clothes and opened up his pants, breathing heavily. His fingers traced Jean’s stomach and brushed his cock, before going down to his entrance. Jean stiffened up, but he was opened and leaking, only waiting for him. He pushed in his index and a low groan escaped Jean’s throat._ _

__He softly bit Jean’s Adam’s apple, staring at lustful golden eyes, before adding his middle finger. Jean barely arched his back, but his breath was short and heavy. He grabbed Marco’s arm and squeezed it. Marco answered by scissoring him, patient and careful when he just wanted to take him. Jean had lost all of his previous pride and superb, and he was only more beautiful, softly rolling his hips, panting and wanting and needing, and Marco kissed him once more as he pushed against his soft spot._ _

__“Mm- Marco, please, I can’t take it anymore!”_ _

__Marco chuckled and took out his fingers, grabbing Jean’s waist and raising him to face his new slave. Jean grabbed him, hands on his back, head on his shoulder, as Marco held him open and guided him to his own shaft. Jean’s moans in his ear were delicious as he entered him softly, dragging him down and down and down – until he had completely entered him. Jean’s fingers crooked in the fabric of his clothes, sweat starting to form on his forehead. Slowly, Marco rose him up, and then pushed him down, and Jean started to moan his name and he shuddered._ _

__His thrusts, though slow and gentle, were deep as he took his sweet time to hit on Jean’s weak spot every time. Jean clenched down on him, and his make-up was spreading all over his face, turning him into a golden, messy statue. Marco felt that his slave was close to his orgasm and he kissed him before hardening and speeding his thrusts. Jean couldn’t help but cry out and he suddenly came, squeezing Marco tight and making him come as well. He kissed Jean’s soft shoulders and pulled out, Jean’s eyes staring at it._ _

__“Okay. That was really good.”  
“I look forward to next time”, Marco said as he brushed his lips._ _

__Jean blushed, but he didn’t look like he wanted to boast anymore. Instead, the light in his eyes was crankier. And Marco loved it._ _


End file.
